


Of Broken dishes and Bandaged Knuckles.

by ForReasonsUnknown (orphan_account)



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Caliban is salty, Calogan, M/M, Minor Injuries, Swearing, i wrote this instead of studying why am i like this, they're both just trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10409709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ForReasonsUnknown
Summary: A slice of life kind of thing: Caliban and Logan attempting to co-exist. (Pre-Logan)





	

Broken dishes fill the sink again, walls littered with numerous deep scratches; a tatty, bloodied shirt thrown haphazardly over a rickety chair. Caliban lets out a short sigh, fingers tracing the damaged wall closest to him, shaky fingers coming away dusty. Later, he'll throw snide comments at Logan till the man reluctantly apologises for his destructive habits; right now he just wants to throw the broken plates out and go back to bed. It takes him nearly twenty minutes to gather up all the shattered pieces, for a moment, he presses one of the pieces against his skin, musing for a moment over how the grey shard blends in with the colour of his skin. He piles the shards up beside the sink, moving to where his poncho and the rest of his protective gear sits on the worn sofa, knowing that the sun will be rising soon, not wanting to get himself burnt for the sake of a little tidying up.

Logan's frequent coming and going has become so ingrained in his mind that, often, he won't even sense Logan's return until he stumbles through the rusty door; a hurricane in - relatively - human form. It's this effect that leaves him completely unaware of Logan's return until the rumble of a car engine reaches his hears, followed by the harsh slam of a car door, and a string of curses as Logan opens the door. His footsteps echo through the near empty building, and he seems startled when he finds Caliban standing in the kitchen, broken dishes stacked haphazardly in his hands. Caliban - after doing a look over Logan's body in search of fresh wounds - find himself intrigued by what Logan is carrying in his hands, he can't quite make it out in the low light.

"Shoulda left that to me," Logan states, walking further into the room, placing his cargo down gently on the table, body tense. "It's my fault they're broken." He adds, eyes on the floor, never once daring to make eye contact with the other mutant. Caliban nods somewhat sceptically, putting his small mountain of broken plates down on the nearest surface before approaching Logan, eyes locked on the box sitting on the table.

"What's that?" He asks, gesturing towards the table, not getting too close out of both respect for Logan's boundaries, and fear of ending up like the wall. Logan remains silent for a few moments, clearly unwilling to answer the question audibly. After a few decidedly awkward moments, a single claw descends from Logan's right hand, Caliban more focused on the catch in Logan's breath than the idea that said claw could kill him with a _single_ slash. Logan makes quick work of the box, claw gliding with no resistance through the cardboard, retracting once it's job is completed; Caliban tries - and fails - to ignore that the cut left behind by the retracting claw does not heal immediately.

From the box, Logan pulls a stack of plates, and Caliban feels heat rushing to his cheeks when he notices the blatant embarrassment on Logan's face. "I was trying to replace them before you woke up," Logan murmurs, brushing past Caliban to deposit the new plates down on the worktop. "You shouldn't have done that, you could have-" Logan cuts himself off, eyes darting down to Caliban's hand. Confusion rushes over him, until he lifts his hand, and is met with bloody fingers; an instant shock of pain immediately seeps up his arm, and a _throbbing ache_ sets in. He curses under his breath, mentally calling himself in idiot in every way he can before striding quickly to the sink, hissing when a cascade of cold water invades the wound. Then he's being pulled backwards and down into a chair, Logan muttering a ' _stay here_ ' before disappearing around a corner. He reemerges with some anti-septic and a small bandage; Caliban instantly begins to protest.

"Logan, _no_ -"  
"Please just be quiet, that wound is deep and it'll get infected out here," Logan interrupts, voice stern, and facial expression clearly telling Caliban that he has no choice in this. The mutant relents, offering his hand to Logan with a little sigh, ignoring the fact that Logan is literally taking care of him right now; desperately clinging onto the idea that he's nothing more than convenient to the other. "How'd you manage to do this without even realising?" Logan tuts, there's humour in his voice: a rare occurrence. Caliban shrugs, the answer no more clear to him.  
"It just... _happens_ , sometimes?" His response comes out more like a question than an answer.

Logan pauses for a moment, bandage half-covering the injury, eyebrow raised as he continues. "This has happened before, then?" Logan takes the other's silence and darting eyes as a yes. Silence drops until Logan finishes, at which point he stands pacing for a moment before turning back to Caliban, frustration clear on his face.  
"So this shit has been going on for a while now, and you _didn't_ bother to tell me? How _fucking_ _ingenious_ of you, Caliban." Logan continues, voice low and irritated, Caliban, however, is having _none_ of it. 

"You don't seem overly inclined to talk to me about your torn up shirts and all those damn wounds that aren't healing. You just take _that_ shit out on the wall and our crockery," Caliban replies, voice far louder and harsher than he had meant it to be, but he's _tired_ and _pissed off_ and is _far_ past the point of giving a _single fuck_. "I thought we'd agreed to stay _out_ of each other's shit." He finishes, throwing a glare in for effect before turning to leave, stopping in the doorway when he hears his name, Logan's voice quiet and broken.

He turns, and for once, sees the vulnerability that Logan attempts to hide behind scars and anger, sees actual emotions other than rage and irritation; sees him. "I'm sorry, you're right," Caliban's expression softens at this. "You put up with my and Charles' shit everyday. Just, don't keep stuff like this from me, alright?" Logan pauses gain, staring down at his feet as he continues. " _I can't lose anyone else_." Caliban lets out a sigh, his petty, domestic irritation boiling away at the lost expression on Logan's face. They've both been through so much shit, and it's not over yet, sticking together is what's been keeping them alive, keeping them sane.

Movements slow and tentative at first, Caliban walks forwards, pace increasing when Logan actually looks up at him, body language not warding him off for once, stance open. Taking a deep breath, he curls his fingers around Logan's wrist, tugging at it gently until the man pushes off from the counter, walking with Caliban. At Logan's perplexed face, Caliban smiles gently. "We're both too old for this shit, Logan. So, bed. _Now_." At this, Caliban releases the other man, sauntering off in the direction of the nearest bedroom, a slightly happier - _actually smiling_ \- Logan following a few steps behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes! They're all my own and I'm a lazy shit so... Anyways, enjoy! (Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of these characters)


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